


Up in Smoke

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Character Deaths, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles face the prospect of living without each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up in Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as three separate chapters, but I decided just to combine all three for this. And yes, characters are going to die... sorry.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Derek had been sure Stiles was right behind him. He had sensed him, knew his smell better than his entire pack, yet he was not standing outside and the building was about to collapse. He hadn't even known the talkative teen wielded that much power, had actually sat through some of his training sessions with Deaton, and saw, firsthand, just how much practice he really needed. This was Lydia level power, but the red head was unconscious, wrapped up in Jackson's arms.

"Where's Stiles?" Derek asked, rounding on Scott, who was having difficulty breathing.

"I don't…" he drew in a deep breath, coughing, a worried look flickering across his face. "He's not out here?"

"No, he's…" Derek's eyes flicked back to the building, and he thought he saw a flash of red, but before he could step forward, he heard a familiar shout and the building caved in. "Stiles!" Derek screamed trying to run forward, but someone grabbed him, stopping him mid-step.

"H-he's gone," he heard Erica choke out, very much aware of Boyd and Isaac trying to hold Scott back. "Derek, he's gone."

Stiles couldn't be gone. Derek refused to believe he was gone. Not hyperactive, talkative, so full of life Stiles. He had been right behind Derek, barely six steps behind him; he should have made it out of the building. He had promised Derek he was going to make it out of the building.

"Stiles," Derek whispered, going limp in Erica's arms, his vision blurring. Derek wanted to howl; no, he needed to howl, to cry, to beg God or whoever to bring Stiles back. Stiles needed to come back; needed to be alright. He couldn't take it if…

"Holy jeez," he heard a familiar voice say, followed by a round of coughing. "I was not," another cough, "expecting that." Derek turned, watching as Stiles limped towards them, holding his arm. "I think I did it wrong. Do you think I did it wrong?" he turned to the group, coughing again, furrowing his eyebrows. "What?"

"Y-you're alive," Derek breathed, feeling Erica let him go in surprise.

"Yeah," Stiles replied rolling his eyes. "I told you I was going… Hey!" Derek threw his arms around Stiles' neck, burying his face in his shoulder, taking in his scent. "Jeez, it was only a witch. It's not like I saved the world or anything," Stiles said jokingly, a little confused, but returned the Alpha's hug nonetheless.

"Don't scare me like that again," Derek said, breathing raggedly, looking up to meet Stiles' eyes.

The talkative teen must have seen something on the Alpha's face because his own softened and he softly said, "I won't, Sourwolf. I promise."

He couldn't keep that promise, Derek knew this, but it didn't mean the Alpha couldn't try his damndest to keep Stiles alive. He wasn't losing another person he loved; he couldn't lose another person he loved. He wouldn't survive.

* * *

Stiles recalled reading somewhere that the average, human body had about 5.6 liters of blood in it. Warm, red blood that kept someone's heart pumping, kept someone alive, and all 5.6 liters seemed to be spilling out of Derek, staining the backseat of his Camaro.

"How much further?" Stiles asked from the backseat, the Alpha's head resting in his lap.

"Probably twenty minutes," Scott called back from the driver seat. "How's he doing?"

"I don't know," Stiles answered truthfully, "but I seriously doubt he has twenty more minutes." Scott nodded, and the car sped up as he pressed down on the gas pedal. Erica, who was sitting in the passenger seat, had been unnaturally quiet, her eyes locked on the windshield, blood clearly visible in her blonde hair and across her pale face. Stiles knew it wasn't her blood.

Stiles would never admit it, but he'd rather fight another lizard person than deal with anymore hunters. He was getting sick and tired of their 'new agey' attitude towards werewolves or anything remotely supernatural. What happened to the 'old days' when there was a code they had to follow? When did they decide to throw out the code and go after innocent people and/or creatures? When did they deem it acceptable to store someone in a tree, a good three hundred yards away, with a sniper rifle so they could shoot an unsuspecting Alpha while he was in the middle of a fight?

Derek had taken three wolfsbane bullets to the torso, each one managing to miss his heart, making Stiles realize that whoever shot him hadn't been aiming to kill him (though, if they did, it wouldn't be skin off their backs). The first bullet, having implanted itself in his shoulder, managed to go straight through, spraying Erica in the face with Derek's blood.

The last two bullets were still rattling around inside the Alpha's body, and until the wounds were treated he wasn't going to heal. They had to get him to Deaton, and they had to get him there now.

Stiles ran his shaky, bloody fingers through Derek's dark hair, willing him to wake up. He had been semi-conscious, the first thirty minutes, but no matter how hard Stiles tried to convince him to stay awake, it just wasn't happening. Derek was losing too much blood, and he lost his fight for consciousness.

"You better be okay," he muttered leaning over Derek's head, "otherwise I'll kill you myself." He sniffed, running the back of his hand across his eyes. They managed to make it to Deaton's in ten minutes, Scott really pulling out the 'reckless driver' card, and the vet was able to remove the bullets and treat the alpha's gunshot wounds. Though, there was a close call when Derek's heart stopped and Stiles had to be physically removed from the room by both Isaac and Scott.

But he was going to be fine. Deaton patched him up, told Stiles he'd heal when he woke up, and left the alpha to sleep off the blood loss and painkillers running through his system. Stiles sat with Derek, curled up in a chair, watching him carefully. He had never really thought about the prospect of losing Derek. Until recently, he hadn't even liked the older guy, but things changed, feelings changed, and now he couldn't imagine a world without the surly, broody Alpha.

* * *

Derek never believed they existed. He had heard a few stories growing up, but he had always assumed it was just Laura trying to scare him, but now he knew she had been telling the truth. They were real, they were dangerous, and they had cornered his pack into an old bookstore.

Stiles was on the floor, his right side ripped open, blood pooling around him, Derek sitting next to him, covered in more blood; none of which was his. Around him, the rest of his pack (sans Boyd and Jackson; both having been torn apart mere hours beforehand) scrambled around, putting Stiles' final plan into action; they had faced facts a while ago. Stiles just wasn't getting out of this alive.

"Okay," Lydia said softly, her eyes still red from crying, pressing a piece of paper into Stiles' hand. "Just say these words and it'll trigger the mountain ash."

"I can…" Stiles coughed, bringing up some blood. He cleared his throat, weakly trying again, "I can… do that."

"I don't want to lose you, too," she whispered pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're one of my best friends."

"You're… you're mine… too," he gasped, stroking her cheek. "Stay… alive." She sobbed, moving away from him, throwing her arms around Allison's neck, burying her head into the other girl's shoulder.

While Erica crouched down next to Stiles, whispering good-bye, Derek dragged himself to his feet, caught Scott's eyes, and nodded for him to follow him. Scott nodded back, digging his palms into his red-rimmed eyes, and slowly followed Derek.

"What's up?" the younger guy asked, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Instead of answering, Derek grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him forward, and rested his forehead against Scott's. At first, the younger guy was confused, but he must have caught on because he said, "No. No, you can't…"

"Yes, I can," Derek replied and released him. "You're in charge now."

"B-but Derek…"

"Someone has to let them in," he stated softly, glancing at the door. "Once you guys are out, before you seal the front doors from the outside, someone has to let them in."

"Derek…"

"What?" Erica and Isaac said together, looking towards their Alpha and Scott.

"He's going to sacrifice himself!" Scott exclaimed before Derek could say anything.

"What?!" Derek hadn't even been aware Stiles could make that much noise; at least not now. He was too weak, bleeding too much, yet his voice practically echoed around the store.

Derek was across the room in a second, crouching down next to Stiles. "Someone has to let them in," he stated softly, repeating exactly what he had said to Scott earlier.

"B-but _not_ you," Stiles whispered slowly, shaking his head.

Derek leaned down, resting his forehead against Stiles', and murmured, "I can't live without you."

"B-but…"

Derek turned to the others, fixing them with a hard glare, daring them to argue with him. He then said, "You don't have much time. Get out through the roof, and I'll let them in. You guys seal them inside with us and get as far away from here as possible. Do you understand me?"

"Derek…" Erica protested, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Don't make me order you," he snapped and his eyes flashed red for good measure. "You don't have much time. Go, now!"

His pack looked torn, they didn't want to leave him or Stiles behind, but they also knew they didn't have much time to argue either. It was Scott who spoke first. "Let's go."

"Hey… hey, Scott…" Stiles called, causing him to stop. "L-love ya, bro."

"Love you, too, Stiles," Scott said softly, blinking rapidly, and then the pack headed out. Isaac froze for a moment, looking down at Derek helplessly, looking as if he wanted to protest, but Derek flashed his eyes again and he swallowed, quickly chasing after Scott.

Derek waited until he was sure they were gone before getting to his feet. He used an old broom to move the mountain ash to the side, slowly returning to Stiles' side. He sat down next to him, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Y-you're a… colossal… idiot," Stiles whispered, coughing again, bringing up more blood. "Y-you c-c-can still get out."

"I'm not going anywhere," Derek said quietly, his eyes fixed on the door.

"B-but…" he leaned forward, effectively cutting the stammering, awkward boy off with his lips, tasting blood. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, ended too soon, but Derek knew he had to pull away. When he finally did, he softly said, "I told you. I can't live without you."

"I-I can't…" more coughing, more blood. "…took you… two years…"

"Yeah."

"Could…could have…"

"Yeah, I know."

"A-at least…" Stiles' breath hitched, his heart skipping a few beats, his pulse thready. "…at least… I have…"

"Y-yeah," Derek muttered sniffing, blinking rapidly. "At least you do." He heard the doors crash open, could smell the putrid breath of the hellhounds as they slowly entered the building.

"See… see ya… on the… other side," Stiles whispered as his head lolled onto Derek's shoulder, his breathing and heart stopping. Derek pulled the paper out of the boys' limp hand, blinking again, clearing his vision. He glanced at the words, listening as the doors slammed shut.

"See you on the other side," he softly said to Stiles, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, feeling hot breath on the side of his neck.

TW

Scott and the pack were two blocks away before they heard an explosion, big enough to shake the street and break every single window surrounding them. Scott was well aware of Lydia breaking down again, of Erica trying to hold Isaac back, and of Allison taking his hand.

They didn't know who sent the hellhounds after them, they didn't even know if the hounds were all dead, and Scott knew they didn't have time to grieve. He looked up, his eyes glowing red, and softly said, "We've got work to do."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the last scene was totally based off the episode Abandon All Hope from Supernatural. It's one of my absolute favorite episodes.


End file.
